


Uroboros

by ablindromance



Series: The Demon and The Samurai [3]
Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:54:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3411383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ablindromance/pseuds/ablindromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uroboros

He sat staring mindlessly into his lukewarm cup of coffee. Ever since he was young, it was a habit of his. Then again, even when he didn't briefly check out of reality, he always felt that his mind was out of place in the world and was older than he was. He never felt "normal" or even complete as a person. The pieces of himself that he did have often felt heavy and smothered by an emptiness he couldn't explain. It wasn't depression so much as a detachment from the world and the people in it. Participating in the more joyous aspects of life felt beyond him (almost sickening, sometimes) and he always thought that human kind attempted to blind themselves to the ugliness in the world with happiness.

But to him, ugliness was honesty. Pain was truth. Suffering was real.

Love and happiness were the lies that people bound themselves in because it made them feel better. No one ever wanted to see life's ugliness for what it was. Except him.

"Kyo, I'm going out for food. Do you want anything?" Kaoru asked as he leaned into the glass tour bus door. The voice distracted Kyo from his trance and he shook his head in refusal.

"Alright." Kaoru left, intent on bringing back a hamburger for him anyway. Getting Kyo to eat was less of a battle than getting him to sleep properly.

Afternoon light snuck through the blinds at his right, cutting across his tattooed arm. Just outside the window he saw a collection of staff busily working to complete their individual tasks. Shinya was shrugged into a corner of shade talking with Kaoru while Toshiya smoked nearby. Apparently the formidably silent blonde was coaxed into making a run for food while the pampered bassist preferred to wander about on his own and take pictures for his blog.

Kyo often wondered how he and such a vastly different group of men managed to remain as one strong, working unit up until now. Each had his own feelings and his own agenda, and yet those things seemed to harmoniously work under one name: DIR EN GREY. Their message was the same as his, and he was the entity to voice it. Despite how dire and bleak the messages were in his lyrics, Kyo had a great influence in the industry. Many aspired to be him, or like him, and the flattery was great. His humility of being looked up to was greater. Of the many young voices that longed to be mentored, two in particular were endearing to him. He knew them and longed for them, for they were the unconscious parts of himself that he could never truly know. "Mao" and "Akane," as they called themselves, even shared some of his physical features and emotional struggles. They looked up to him and emulated him with a passion that they could only understand as admiration. In the rare instances when his schedule was free, Kyo would modestly slip into the crowded venue and watch each perform with all their heart and soul before he slipped back out, unnoticed and still not whole. More decades would pass, and the pieces of him would die one by one. They’d all return, but the cycle of living an unfulfilled life was hardly anything to look forward to. Abandoning his coffee, Kyo leaned back into the padded seat at the small coffee table and stared at figures that were now blurs of movement with a vague human shape.

“You alive back here?” The country-accented voice tumbled out from one of the bunks and gradually made its way to where Kyo hid himself. 

The red-head’s slender body slithered easily down the narrow hallway and announced itself with a loud yawn. A night of binge-drinking and partying knocked him out in the early morning hours and he woke late in the afternoon, strangely not hung-over and rather energetic. Rumored to be a womanizer, Die was undoubtedly a funny, charming, and charismatic extrovert. As for fidelity, he was one of the most loyal people Kyo knew. The vocalist trusted him greatly. They were almost like brothers in their closeness despite being polar opposites, and Die often defended Kyo in whatever ways he could. 

He, too, knew himself but was not fully conscious of who he used to be. Like Kyo, he felt that he had existed before. The possibility of that didn’t bother him much; he accepted it with boundless positivity. 

Kyo looked from the window. 

“I’m alive. You should talk, though. We all thought you died.”

Die laughed and plopped down beside the smaller man. Idly scratching his head and mindlessly finger-combing his hair, a moment later he leaned over Kyo entirely to look out the window. He never really remembered the rules of Kyo’s personal space.

“Nah. I was recharging. Where’s everybody?”

“Toshiya is taking pictures and writing ‘deep’ blog posts. Kaoru and Shinya are making a food run. You might still be able to catch them,” Kyo offered with the slightest tilt of his head toward the window.

Die perked up in alarm.

“What? Food run? That bastard didn’t even wake me up and ask me what I wanted!” He pulled back, sitting on his heel. “I gotta go. I’ll bring you back somethin’.” The guitarist bent to press his lips to Kyo’s cheek before jumping up and hurrying back down the hallway with a pair of flip-flops in hand. “Kaoru’s such an ass. Kao? Kaoru!”

Die came and went like the whirlwind he was, noisy but entertaining. Kyo pushed an amused huff though his nose and lifted a corner of his mouth. Just what he and Die were, he couldn’t say. He dare not name it, either. Whatever they were, they were together and the bonds were strong. Equally strong ties held him and the other three men together, too. 

Like the Uroboros, the head of Kyo’s life would forever chase its tail and consume it, ending and beginning anew eternally. On his marked back he would carry the world’s sorrow; with his voice, he would sing the grim messages of truth. Even with all the suffering injected into his life, at least for now, with Die and the others at his side, the task was bearable because he wasn’t alone.


End file.
